


"I Shot an Arrow Into The Air..."

by matrixrefugee



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Torchwood
Genre: Gen, Implied Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matrixrefugee/pseuds/matrixrefugee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crossover with Arrow -- set after the events of "Dead to Rights". After the attempt on his life, Malcolm Merlyn awakens in the hospital to find a mysterious stranger, with a very familiar face, keeping watch over him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I Shot an Arrow Into The Air..."

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://torchwood-fest.livejournal.com/profile)[**torchwood_fest**](http://torchwood-fest.livejournal.com/) 's “Jack is someone from another fandom's biological father. Did this character always know Jack? Are they just finding out?” Malcolm Merlyn + Jack Harkness. Okay, a bit obvious, but I couldn't resist (especially since I was rewatching episodes of Miracle Day in between eps of Arrow...). Special thanks goes out to [](http://czarina-kitty.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://czarina-kitty.livejournal.com/)**czarina_kitty** for giving the draft an excellent fine-tooth-combing and catching some grammatical and narrative snags I’d missed.

The remains of the curare, the painkillers, the pain itself kept Merlyn in a fog halfway between consciousness and unconsciousness. The voices of the nurses and doctors moving about him hummed in his ears, distant, as if underwater. Faces came and went, the professionally concerned masks of the hospital staff. Tommy's face, pale with barely contained fear.

And one face he did not quite recognize at first. A face that, once it fully registered, he took as a doppelganger, a drug-induced hallucination. A face resembling his so strongly that the painkillers had to have caused it.

In time, his focus started to return, his awareness clearing, enough that he was able to speak to Tommy at some length before slipping back into a restorative sleep.

Later in a waking moment, he grew aware of a figure seated in an aluminum frame armchair near the foot of his bed, a tall man in a long, grey-blue coat with a military cut. He blinked, forcing the lingering sleep haze in his eyes to clear as he honed in on the visitor, who sat engrossed in reading a newspaper. As if sensing Merlyn's gaze, the visitor looked up, folding the newspaper, a look of relief crossing his face.

"You came back to us, gave us quite a scare," the visitor said, friendly, even paternally.

Merlyn carefully hitched himself higher on his pillows, as he eyed the other man. "I don't think we've been introduced. Who let you in?"

"Hospital security and the head doctor let me in when I identified myself," the interloper replied. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness. I'm your biological father. Or biological mother, if I had to be technical and use this age's quaint little categories." A lilt on 'quaint' had a playfully derisive edge to it.

Merlyn blinked and shook his head. Either the man was mad, or the painkillers were still fogging his own hearing and perception. But it would also explain why the two of them so closely resembled each other. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, I'm your biological father," the other replied, simple, straightforward.

"Yes, I heard that part, and I was aware that I was adopted." As a young teenager, Merlyn had asked his parents, an older couple who had made their fortune in medical research and development but who had no child of their own to pass on their legacy to, where he had come from. His mother had told him that his birth parents had worked for his father's company, but that they had preferred to remain unknown. Later, as an adult, he had tried for years to have his birth records unsealed, but no judge was willing to release that information.

"Long story, but a while back, I was investigating your father's company. Seems they'd stumbled on some medical technology that they shouldn't have and I'd been sent to retrieve it," Harkness related.

"I was working undercover in one of the labs and, well, you know, people in lab coats, long hours working. Folks look for ways to relieve the stress of researching things that could make or break their credibility. Got friendly with one guy, an intern who'd gotten close to what I was looking for. One thing lead to another, and next thing I knew, I had to explain my physiology to him, and why he was going to be a father when he least expected it.

"Course, back then, the very idea of two men having a thing for each other was almost as outlandish as a man having a baby," he added, completely serious.

Merlyn raised a hand. "If I might ask a question, how is that even possible? Were you grown in a vat?" he asked, with a bit more irony than he might have intended.

Harkness smirked a bit, and shook his head, his pale eyes -- so like Merlyn's own, only older, more shadowed, if that was possible -- turning slightly distant. "No, but I was born in a time and a place very far from the here and now, where things like this aren't unusual."

"That's interesting, but I'm afraid you're going to have to give me something with a bit more substance than some clever words and a vague scientific background," Merlyn replied, less than convinced.

Harkness reached for a briefcase that stood leaning against his chair, unzipping it and taking out a thick manila folder. "Sort of expected you would," he said, holding the dossier out to Merlyn. "You'll find everything you'd want: your original birth certificate, and my medical records."

On the top of the stack of papers in the dossier was an unredacted copy of Merlyn's birth certificate, Starling City seal and all. On the line marked "Mother's Name" was the name Jack Harkness, while the line marked "Father's Name" was the name of a respected researcher in his father's company.

At the back were several slightly yellowed 8x10 photographs of the interloper, shirtless, in various stages of gravidity, the later photos showing him supine in bed, eying the camera in one shot as if he might put his fist through it.

"Why are you sharing all this information with me?" Merlyn asked, looking back to his visitor. The amount bordered on overkill, though it answered a question he had asked as a young man and laid aside as he had grown older.

"I'm only sharing it to help you to understand," Harkness replied, plain and straightforward. "You weren't abandoned, you just needed more than Reginald and I could give you. He kept in touch with me, told me how you were growing."

"How much did you know?" That came out a bit more eagerly than he intended.

"Enough to be proud of you and to realize we'd made the right decision, letting Lance and his wife adopt you," Harkness replied. Then drawing in a breath, he added, "And enough to know about your wife."

Merlyn felt his heart tighten in his chest, but he kept his face calm. "That was a long time ago. I've put it aside, as best as I could."

Harkness quirked an eyebrow, then nodded once slowly, but Merlyn could see in the other's pale eyes that he didn't believe him, not entirely. "I know the feeling: after you were born and settled with your family, I met a woman who, well, got me to stay still for a while, long enough to have a family. I lost her twenty years ago, but before that we drifted apart. I never had the chance to really make it up to her." He dropped his gaze, looked away into the far corner of the room.

"It's a terrible thing, losing the one you love.; I still have my son, Tommy, but I can't say that's the most ...amiable relationship," Merlyn admitted.

"Kids do that. They move away from you in so many ways, but you'd still tear down heaven and earth to protect them," Harkness admitted, with the wisdom of experience.

"So, if I might ask, where have you been all these years?" Merlyn asked.

Harkness gave him a smirk that hinted of mysteries. "I've been working in covert operations on the other side of the Atlantic.”

"As in the CIA?"

"Something a lot more covert than that. I'd tell you, but I'd have to wipe your memory afterward, and that would take away the memory of this meeting," Harkness replied, completely serious. Not that a part of him did not mind forfeiting those memories: this discovery was almost too much for Merlyn to bear.

"Tell me this: if you're my biological father, how is that you look young enough to be my brother? My twin brother, for that matter."

Harkness shrugged, too casually. "Strong genetics and I'm careful with my health, as much as I can in my line of work."

"Longevity treatments?" he asked.

"Something like that." Too quickly.

"I get it. Something else you'd have to wipe my memory for, if you told me," Merlyn said. "I hope I've inherited some of those good genetics, at least enough to look as good as you do when I reach that age." He settled back on his pillows, feigning tiredness.

"Worn you out with all my chatter?" Harkness asked, with an almost fatherly concern.

"Perhaps, but... it has been an enlightening conversation."

"I'd better let you rest. If you'd rather I left you alone, it's no trouble," Harkness said. Then with a slightly pensive look, he added, "I haven't exactly been a part of your life."

"By all accounts, I turned out all right."

Harkness rose and put a hand on Merlyn's shoulder. "You rest up and if you want to talk again, the head nurse has my contact information."

"I'll keep that in mind," Merlyn replied, sounding tired.

Harkness patted his shoulder companionably. "Till the next time.”

When Harkness had left, Merlyn kneaded his forehead with both fists, tiredly. This was too much for him to process. Who was this man and what brought him here? Had he heard the news of the attack -- something he'd told the media was nothing more than a burglary gone horribly wrong -- and that had brought him out of hiding? And just what was the nature of these "covert operations" Harkness had alluded to?

For all he knew, Harkness was spying on him. How much did the interloper know and what would he do with that information? If he did anything to interfere with the Undertaking, then intervention would be necessary.

Contact information indeed. He would see that the man was followed. And if it appeared that Harkness knew too much, then he would have to resort to dire means, taking the matter into his own hands.


End file.
